


minutt for minutt

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, SKAM - Freeform, Schizophrenia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: SKAM!au. This is a story about love, sexual identity, mental illness, and friendship, and Luhan finds himself in the middle of it all.written for selubration round 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would just like to say that I have not written selu for the longest time. Please accept my apologies in advance!
> 
> Prior knowledge of SKAM is probably helpful, but it should be fine if you don't. Additionally, Sehun is 18 and Luhan is 17 in this fic. As SKAM was set in high school, I decided to keep it in that age range.

There are only two reasons as to why Luhan comes to these parties. He puts up with the mess, the noise, and the filth for 1) his best friends, and 2) the decent weed. It’s no secret that his friends think that he also comes for 3) the chicks, but that is a misconception that Luhan doesn’t plan on correcting any time soon.

The stench of weed is clogging up the air in the bathroom, but it’s a brief moment of peace and safety that Luhan clings on to. Speakers send pulses of music travelling up through the foundation of the house and Luhan can feel them buzzing against his spine, rattling down each vertebra until they blend in with the thrum of his heart.

He’s rudely pulled out of the haze in his mind when Minseok snatches the makeshift bong out of his hands. Luhan tunes back into the conversation to hear – with a sinking heart – that the boys are talking about girls. Again. Over the course of the last couple of years, he’s managed to pick up one very important skill: faking it. It keeps the looks and questions away, which is something that Luhan really needs, considering the fact that he still refuses to accept the glaring truth.

“...legs and a really nice ass,” is the first thing Luhan hears when he’s readied himself for the conversation.

“D’you guys see that one girl,” he begins, “with dark hair and really green eyes? Damn.”

As easy as that, Luhan watches his friends eagerly sink their teeth into the bait – hook, line, and sinker. It’s hard to keep the interested expression on his face, but it’s thanks to a lot of practice that he does.

Minseok snorts, “ _Else?_ No way you can get her. No one in this house can get her – dude, her last boyfriend was a college student and looked like a fucking god. Even _I_ think he’s hot.”

 _Oh yeah_ , Luhan wants to say. _He’s definitely hot. I’d let him do me._

Instead, he bristles in fake indignation and elbows his friend in the ribs. “You don’t think I can get her?”

“Fuck no,” Marwan laughs, reaching over to grab the bong from Mattéo’s hands. Luhan squints through the cloud of smoke that floats across his face, eyes tearing up just a little from the sting. “Not even someone with your game, buddy.”

So Luhan stands, knees knocking painfully against the edge of the tub.

“I’ll show you. Give me fifteen minutes; if I don’t have my tongue down her throat by then, I’ll buy you all lunch for the next week.”

His friends’ cheers ring in his ears all the way out of the bathroom and down the stairs. As Luhan scans the packed room for the girl he’d barely glimpsed earlier in the night, his gut churns with what is probably self-disgust. The art of picking up teenaged girls is something he has mastered over time and Luhan does it extremely well.

So well, in fact, that he’s known throughout the school for it. It’s not the best reputation, but Luhan thinks that it’s infinitely better than the one he’d almost gotten, thanks to his failure of clearing out his web searches and very nosy friends. Ever since the first year of high school, he’s been doing it so much that it _almost_ feels natural – but he knows better, despite the brick wall of denial he can’t quite seem to break down.

He spots her near the drink table, the cup in her hand tilting precariously to the side. She’s laughing with her friends, leaning into the space of another girl, one whose gaze flits up and catches sight of Luhan. Her eyes widen and she all but pinches her friend at the hip. A whisper, during which Luhan rearranges himself into a nonchalant yet eye-catching stance.

Then his target whips around, drink sloshing out of her cup, and Luhan lets the corner of his mouth tug up into a little curl. He knows he looks good, the dimness of the room casting soft shadows across his face and into his eyes.

The girls fall for it all the time – hook, line, sinker.

When Luhan stumbles back into the bathroom with the girl – what was her name again? –, not ten minutes later, his friends scramble out of the tub and rush for the door. Through the mirror, Luhan sees an impressed look flit over Minseok's face and he fights the urge to sigh into her smoke-heavy hair.

The second she presses her lips to his, Luhan shuts his eyes and pulls up an image of a hot guy. Shirtless, tall, buff – the works. He doesn’t look at her once, letting his hands do the work, fingers curling into her hair as she sinks to her knees. Getting hard isn’t a problem, not when you’re a teenage boy on the cusp of adulthood, so he pretends it’s a guy’s lips around the head of his cock when he rocks into her mouth.

He comes with a low groan, gives her a sloppy kiss in thanks after she spits out his come (he’s not insulted whatsoever) and tucks him back in. It’s only when she settles down on the edge of the sink and spreads her legs that Luhan finally opens his eyes.

“I don’t have a condom,” he lies, “but I’ll finger you.”

She’s appeased, and Luhan does as he’d promised with almost clinical precision, two fingers inside her and his thumb pressed on her clit. Her thighs tremble when she orgasms, the strap of her top slipping off a shoulder. Because he’s not an asshole, Luhan waits until she’s presentable once more before washing his hands and leaving the bathroom.

He finds his friends out on the patio, but he’s no longer in the mood to drink or smoke. So he lifts a hand in lieu of a verbal goodbye and walks out onto the street.

 

 

 

  
The weekend passes in a thick haze, and before Luhan knows it, he’s back in school surrounded by the boys and his classmates and teachers who don’t wear bras when they very clearly should.

At lunch, Luhan busies himself with poking at his food, half-listening to Mattéo go on about how he had hooked up with a girl at the party who kisses like a cat – whatever the hell that means. His food starts clumping together, but he barely spares the mush a glance as he lets his gaze float around the room.

He spots Else at a table not far from his own, but before she can catch his gaze, he looks away and – _oh_ , Luhan feels the air getting sucked right out from his lungs, and under his skin, he can feel his pulse flutter.

There’s a boy, sitting at the other end of the room, back flush against the wall. Is he new? He must be, because Luhan has never seen him before, and he would definitely remember if he had. He drinks it all in, from the sharp eyes to the tousled hair, from the tight jeans to the pen weaving between slim fingers. As he watches, Vera steps up to the new boy and engages him in conversation, drawing a bright and polite smile to his face.

The sight all but puts Luhan in a weird, hazy sort of daze, and it isn’t until he gets whacked on the head with a clipboard does he shake himself out of it.

“Huh?” _Very eloquent_ , the voice inside his head snickers. Luhan curses at it.

Vera’s staring at him, eyebrow crooked and a very unimpressed expression on her face. To her right is Saira, the wings of her eyeliner as sharp as ever.

“I asked if you wanted to join our theatre and film group. I’m guessing you need extracurricular credit?”

Luhan peers at the back of the clipboard then promptly battles with the urge to ask if The Boy had signed up. Around him, his friends not-so-politely decline the offer, but just as the girls are about to take their leave, Luhan stops them.

“I’ll join.”

He gets a stunned smack to the back and a loudly whispered _what the fuck?_ for that, but he ignores his friends and lets Vera scribble down his name on her sign-up sheet.

“Awesome,” Vera beams. “Our first meeting is on Thursday, after school in the drama room. Don’t be late!”

The second the girls are out of earshot, his friends descend on him like starving vultures.

“What the hell, Luhan?”

“Since when do you give a shit about theatre? Or film?”

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

He rolls his eyes and elbows Minseok in the ribs. “Shut up. She’s not wrong, I do need extracurricular credit; I might as well get it over and done with this semester.”

His friends don’t seem very pleased with that explanation, but it’s a reasonable one and they can’t come up with any plausible arguments. Luhan deals with a few more weird looks from them before they give up trying to figure out what went wrong with him, and he takes the chance to steal another glance at The Boy across the room before going back to picking at his lunch.

 

 

 

  
 _Regret_ might be too strong a word – because he did sign up for a very legitimate reason, after all – but Luhan is seriously wondering if he should be given full autonomy of his decision-making abilities from now on. The group of students currently sitting inside the drama room is made up of the strangest combinations of people, and if it wasn’t for the fact that _everyone_ is out of place, Luhan would be halfway to crawling out of his own skin by now.

Else is there too – she tries to make small talk with him, but Luhan barely spares her a second glance and it clearly ruffles her feathers. He gets a nasty look for his (lack of) effort, but he really doesn’t care.

They’ve all got a cookie each, courtesy of Vera, and it’s a true testament to how distracted Luhan is that he hasn’t polished it off in three bites. Moments before he stepped into the drama room, he’d given the sign-up sheet that was pinned on the board outside a look through. _Oh Sehun_ was written right above his name and _Oh Sehun_ is currently seated right next to him.

Luhan’s blood is buzzing so rapidly that it feels like he’s physically vibrating. He wonders if _Oh Sehun_ knows of the effect he has on others – because let’s be real here, Luhan definitely isn’t the only one who has ever felt this way.

The meeting runs for an hour and a half, and Luhan participates in an insane amount of icebreaker games, painfully aware of how such games effortlessly pull his awkwardness through like a godly beam of light.

He escapes ten minutes before the end of it, breathing easier when the cool evening air washes over him. Propped up on the back of a bench, he unearths a squished blunt from his backpack and lights up – the only adults in the school right now are the janitorial staff, and they absolutely do not care about teenagers smoking weed.

One third through the blunt and a shadow falls over him.

Luhan doesn’t even have the time to think about collecting his scattered wits when _Oh Sehun_ settles down next to him with a lazy smile on his face.

“Uh,” Luhan says. _Wow_ , the voice says. _Again, very eloquent_. Luhan wants to punch himself.

“Hey,” Sehun says, a lock of hair falling into his eyes in the most charming way possible. “Mind if I take a hit?”

Running completely on autopilot, Luhan hands over the blunt and watches, wide-eyed, as Sehun leans forward to take a pull. His lips barely brush against Luhan’s fingers, but Luhan feels the touch burn.

“Mm, thanks.” Smoke curls out from between pink lips and Luhan wonders if they’re as soft as they look. They sit in silence for a minute or so, trading puffs, until Sehun snorts and says, “You missed a good game, you know. We had to feel each other up in the dark and if you touched someone’s dick, you had to suck it. My old school was never this fun.”

There’s a heavy pause where neither of them seems to be breathing, then Sehun lets out the cutest laugh and sets Luhan off too.

“Shit,” Luhan grins, “now I wish I didn’t leave.”

Sehun simply lifts an eyebrow in amusement and motions for Luhan to finish the blunt.

 

 

 

  
Baekhyun’s elbow is sharp and annoying and insistent against his ribs, but Luhan is too damn lazy to move out of its way. How he’s managed to live with him for over a year, Luhan has no idea.

“Dude,” he says, “what do you want.”

“Which one should I hook up with?” Baekhyun unceremoniously thrusts his phone into Luhan’s face and shakes it. “This one, or –” He scrolls to the next picture, “– this one?”

With the world’s heaviest sigh, Luhan looks up at the screen and gets an eyeful of chiselled abs, thick biceps, and hipbones that could cut diamonds.

“They look identical.”

Baekhyun huffs. “Therein lies the problem.”

Incredulous, Luhan pinches his friend in the stomach. “Just flip a coin or something, oh my god. You know you’d be happy with either one, anyway.” Right then, an idea hits. “Or you could just sleep with both of them.”

“You know,” Baekhyun says conversationally, sitting back and loading up Grindr. “If you were gay, you’d have so many guys tripping over themselves just to get you to look at them. I can already imagine your Grindr profile – sarcastic, no fucks given, a couple of blurry pictures that turn out to be artistic instead of half-assed.”

Luhan doesn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he settles for watching Baekhyun message both guys with a simple and straightforward: _down for a threesome?_

 

 

 

  
He’s rounding a corner when he runs right into something solid, nose throbbing with the force of it. A grunt, surprised and pained, slips out of him and Luhan feels his entire face scrunch up.

“Shit,” he hears, “I’m so sorry. You okay?”

It takes an embarrassingly long time for Luhan to place the voice, and when he finally does, he nearly gives himself whiplash from how hard his head snaps up.

Sehun is mere inches away, looking down at him with clear concern in his eyes. He’s got a laptop in one hand and a pair of headphones in the other, and Luhan is momentarily rendered speechless when he gets to witness a lock of hair fall attractively into deep brown eyes.

“Fine,” he says thickly, still rubbing at his nose. “You, uh, have a hard back.”

A beat, then a grin spreads slowly across Sehun’s face. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Sound trickles faintly from the headphones in Sehun’s grasp and Luhan glances down to see something playing on the screen of Sehun’s laptop.

“What are you watching?”

Sehun brightens visibly at the question and Luhan finds himself getting tugged over to a window, where they end up perched on the ledge with Sehun’s laptop resting on his knee.

“ _Pulp Fiction_ ,” Sehun declares, brandishing his headphones. “One of the best films of all time.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Luhan blurts, then promptly winces. If this is Sehun’s favourite film, saying point blank that he’s never seen it before is probably not the best way to go about this budding crush of his.

But Sehun doesn’t seem offended whatsoever. In fact, that little tidbit seems to stoke his excitement.

“You _have_ to watch it,” Sehun tells him, unplugging his headphones and turning the volume up a few notches. “Unprecedented. A mindblowing, post-modern mix of neo-noir, dark humor, and pop-culture. Undoubtedly Tarantino’s best work.”

He sounds so reverent of the film that Luhan immediately adds it to his mental to-do list. When he nods in agreement, Sehun smiles at him, all sunshine and sugar, and Luhan edits his to-do list to say: _watch Pulp Fiction ten times._

“Are you going to this week’s meeting? I’ve heard that we’ll be discussing _The Silence of the Lambs_ and I can’t wait.”

A small part of Luhan curses himself for having signed up, because how is he ever going to say no to attending the stupid meetings when he is clearly interested in Sehun and Sehun is clearly interested in film and theatre? Luhan knows that part of himself very well – it’s the part that believes he’ll get over his attraction to men, the part that keeps up his long-time charade of picking up girls at parties, the part that clears his phone and laptop histories obsessively whenever he watches gay porn.

He knows that part of himself and he hates it.

Jaw tight, he nods and says, “Yeah, probably. You like that film too?”

That sets Sehun off again and Luhan willingly lets his voice wash over him like a wave of warmth.

 

 

 

  
The air around them is oily and greasy and Luhan loves it. He and his boys have been coming to this fish and chips shop ever since freshman year and it’s one of his favourite forms of catharsis. Crispy on the outside yet soft and tender on the inside, Luhan never fails to clear his styrofoam box of food.

“Hey,” Minseok says, noisily sucking his fingertips clean of oil. “We got invited to a house party Friday night.”

“Yeah? Whose?”

“Else, can you believe it? I guess she really likes you.”

Luhan barely manages to fight back his repulsion. “I made it very clear to her it was a one-time thing.”

To his left, Marwan snorts incredulously. “The fuck? Why?”

Luhan shrugs. “Not interested in anything more.”

“But have you _seen_ her?”

“If I haven’t, it would have been pretty damn hard for me to have hooked up with her, no?” Luhan replies, dry. He picks up a fry and dunks it into a plastic pot of mayo.

“Whatever,” Marwan says. He steals a handful of Minseok’s fries and stuffs them all into his mouth. “We’re going to that party and you’re coming too.”

Declining would be the gateway to a massive shitstorm of questions, so Luhan simply hums his assent and turns back to his food. Somehow, it tastes much too bland. He chews methodically – _bite bite bite, swallow, repeat_ – and listens to his friends talk excitedly about the party, relying solely on his instincts to reply exactly when he should. A laugh here, a couple of words there, and his friends don’t even seem to notice that he doesn’t care.

The sunlight is still sharp by the time they leave the shop accompanied, the light bouncing off a thin sheen of oil lingering on their lips. Luhan bids his friends goodbye at the crossroads, trading one-armed hugs and fist bumps before they part ways. It’s a short walk home and Luhan enjoys the brief moment of solitude, pulling a snapback down over his eyes and clamping it in place with a pair of headphones. Now all he hears is his music, all he sees is the few feet of pavement ahead of him, and all he feels is the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

For a while, he can just be himself.

He lets his thoughts roam and unsurprisingly, they land on a certain boy – tall, with an exquisite smile and warm brown eyes that crinkle when he laughs. Sighing, Luhan pulls out his phone and brings up Facebook. He types in Sehun’s name and scrolls through almost three dozen _Oh Sehun_ s before he gives up. Instagram is next, and Luhan almost gets sidetracked when he finds himself looking through pictures of the cutest Maltipoo whose owner just happens to share the same name as Sehun.

Then, on a whim, Luhan types Sehun’s name into the search bar on YouTube. The guy likes films and theatre – thinking he might have a YouTube account isn’t that outrageous of an assumption, right?

And… there it is, the fourth video, with Sehun’s face right on the thumbnail.

Luhan is mere minutes away from home, but he finds himself moving off the street and leaning against a brick wall, fingertip pressing down against the screen of his phone to load the video.

Sehun’s voice floods his ears and Luhan is suddenly torn between watching Sehun’s animated expressions or listen to his equally cheerful words. What Luhan gathers from the video – it’s shaky and the person who’s filming likes to talk extremely loudly –, Sehun is reciting lines for a play, parading through the halls of his old school in an oversized shirt and skinny jeans. He looks radiant.

It’s a short video, barely two minutes long, but Sehun laughs through half of it.

In the end, Luhan finds himself walking home with it playing in his mind, in a loop, over and over again.

 

 

 

  
“So?” Sehun prompts, leaning against the wall and looking like an honest-to-god model. “What did you think of the discussion today?”

Dusk is just beginning to fall, draping a section of Sehun’s face with faint shades of purple that cut perfectly across his cheekbone. Just like last time, they’ve skipped the last ten minutes of the meeting, sharing yet another blunt between them. Sehun takes a few puffs and magnanimously tells Luhan to have the rest.

“It was…” Luhan lets out a stream of smoke. “Enlightening. I never really gave that much thought to a movie before. Changes a few things, huh?”

Sehun hums, thin fingers reaching out to pinch the tip of the blunt before he brings it to his lips. “I’ve loved films for as long as I can remember, so over-analyzing them is kinda my hobby. It’s interesting, you know, getting into the heads of the people behind them. Gives you a whole new perspective on things.”

It’s captivating, the way Sehun’s lips purse just the slightest around the blunt and the way his cheeks hollow when he sucks. Luhan swallows, mouth suddenly full of cotton.

“Were you, uh, ever a theatre kid? Like, acting, I mean.”

That has Sehun grinning sheepishly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he passes the blunt back over. “Yeah, I was. I was in every single play and I would even offer to be part of the backstage crew. Can you believe that I learned how to sew just because I wanted to be involved in creating the costumes?”

Luhan lets out one plume of smoke and grinds out the remains of the blunt under his heel. “I’d like to have seen one of your plays.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a warm hand curls around his wrist. “I have them on tape.” A laugh, and Luhan shivers pleasantly. “My mother refuses to ever get rid of them. If you want, you can come over one day to watch them.”

Luhan’s stomach plummets and skyrockets right back up into his throat in the span of two seconds.

“...Really?”

“Of course! Not to sound like an arrogant asshole, but it gives me great joy whenever someone watches something I’m in.”

Gold replaces purple, gilding every line of Sehun’s face like he’s one of the world’s most precious artifacts. It turns the shade of his irises from a deep brown to a warm amber and Luhan wonders if he tastes as sweet as he looks.

“How about tomorrow? After school? I’d say right now, but I have an appointment that I can’t miss.”

“Friday?”

Sehun nods and the setting sun beams off his hair.

 _Friday_ , Luhan thinks. Something nags at him – does he have something else planned for Friday? But whatever it is isn’t coming to mind, so Luhan ends up nodding and saying, “Sure. I’m looking forward to it.”

 

 

 

  
A handful of rain droplets are dotting the pavement, forcing darker grey to blend into lighter grey. They’re fat droplets and Luhan feels the sting when one smacks against the curve of his cheek.

“It’s just a short bus ride,” Sehun’s saying next to him, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and broad shoulders hunched in just the slightest. If Luhan focuses hard enough, he can spot tiny water droplets clinging to the curl of Sehun’s lashes.

They’re squeezed into a corner of the bus stop with their fellow students, the air around them smelling of damp grass and faint petrichor. Sehun’s arm is a line of warmth against Luhan’s, enough to chase away the traces of autumn’s chill trying to settle into his bones.

When he chances a look up at Sehun’s face, he gets a second or two to study the angle of his jaw before Sehun notices and smiles down at him. That sends a rush of heat up his cheeks and Luhan suppresses a hacking cough that attempts to crawl out of his throat.

Thankfully, a bus rumbles up right then and Sehun nudges him forward with a hand pressed to his back. “C’mon, let’s get going before the rest of the school comes swarming out and clogs up the bus.”

It’s packed as it is, even without the rest of the students. Luhan finds himself with a pole digging into his hip and Sehun’s shoulder a mere inch away from his face when the bus lurches forward. Amidst the chatter and the loud rattle of the bus’ engine, he doesn’t hear his phone trill with a new message.

“You okay? Enough space?”

Luhan tightens his grip around the pole – trying his best not to think of the fact that Sehun’s hand is right above his – and nods. “Yeah, but if I step on your feet, I’m sorry.”

Sehun just smiles, as sunny as ever, and Luhan wonders how a person could possibly be this perfect.

They push their way through the crowd and pop out of the bus ten minutes later, feeling a little rumpled but none the worse for wear. Sehun leads the two of them to a nondescript apartment building, stopping by the rows of mailboxes to open one and pull out a few letters.

“Bills.” Waving the envelopes in his hand, Sehun pulls a face and gestures towards the elevator with his head. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Luhan mumbles.

 

 

 

  
It almost feels like a dream. Things are little hazy around the corners and there’s a lightness to their movements that Luhan finds enthralling. Perhaps it’s due to the weed, Luhan thinks, toes curling underneath the woolly blanket Sehun had draped over them. The huge stack of homemade cheese toasties certainly does not make things any worse, either.

They’ve already gone through a third of the home DVDs that Sehun unearthed from one of the drawers, and it pains Luhan to say that Sehun’s performance in _all_ of the plays he’s been a part of are… well, perfect. He delivers his lines flawlessly, emotes naturally, and moves across the stage like he was born to be up there.

“You’re good.” Luhan takes a sip from his beer – “I won’t tell if you won’t,” Sehun had said with a grin when Luhan informed him that he’s still a minor – and motions to the screen. “You ever think of going professional?”

Sehun lifts a shoulder, modest. “Thanks. And yeah, in a sense. I think I’d prefer being behind the scenes though. Directing, I mean. I want to create something and breathe life into it.”

Time slithers by, as slow and thick as honey.

“Should’ve added some spices,” Luhan comments out of the blue, punctuating his statement by taking a large bite of a toastie. It’s still good, but it’s missing that extra kick.

“Which spices?”

Luhan licks off the crumbs around his mouth and burrows deeper under the blanket. “Caribbean Jerk,” he says, lifting a finger. “Chili flakes. Cardamom.”

Next to him, Sehun is nodding seriously, his eyes still fixed on the TV screen. “I think I have all of those.”

“As you should,” Luhan says, and watches as the Sehun on screen proceeds to bring the house down.

They’re in the middle of _Othello_ when the doorbell buzzes. Sehun jerks violently, foot slamming into the underside of the coffee table in his surprise. “Shit, what time is it?” He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s scrambling off the couch, tugging the blanket clean off Luhan’s lap with the movement.

The front door opens and Luhan watches as a girl enters, long chestnut hair swept over a shoulder and sprinkled with rain. Sehun steps close, head bent as he says something, and the girl smiles up at him in a way that has Luhan’s heart seizing painfully.

Sehun takes her coat and hangs it up on a peg, free hand curling around her elbow. She stays close to his side, in his space, breathes in his air.

“Sorry,” Luhan hears him say, “I lost track of time. Amie, this is Luhan. He’s a friend from school and we’re both in the theatre and film club. Luhan, this is Amie. She’s my girlfriend.”

At a complete loss for words, all Luhan can do is offer Amie a shaky smile. She returns it easily enough before she turns for a kiss, one that Sehun gives, fingers under her chin to keep her in place.

Luhan’s phone pings then, and he tears his eyes – burning and dry – away from the couple to stare down at his phone.

_dude, where the fuck are you?_

_else is asking about you, man. when are you getting here?_

It’s past dinnertime and the indigo sky is already dipping into ink.

_sorry. felt sick, probably gonna stay home._

“I have to go,” he blurts, springing to his feet. Sehun peels away from Amie long enough to look at him and nod.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry for keeping you this long, I didn’t realise it was so late. See you on Monday?”

Luhan mumbles something in response and practically bolts from the apartment. His pulse doesn’t slow until he’s safely back in his own room twenty-three minutes later, hair sticking to the back of his neck and nails digging craters into the flesh of his palms.

 

 

 

  
If there’s something Luhan truly hates in this world, it would probably be his fucking locker. He gets into a wrestling match with the blasted thing every single time he wants to close the door, and most of the time, he loses.

He’s moments away from slamming his entire body weight against the locker in a last-ditch attempt to close it when Vera appears by his elbow, eyes bright and wide as she fixes him with an expectant look.

Chest heaving, Luhan pushes his hair out of his eyes and drops his pile of books onto the floor by his feet. “...Yes?”

“We’re planning to have a party next week,” she chirps, head cocking to one side. “And I want you to host.”

“You want me to – what? Why me?”

She shrugs, unbothered. “Because no adults live with you and you have a place big enough to hold us all.”

With that, she grins at him and flounces off, hair swinging so forcefully that Luhan’s hit in the face with a strong whiff of magnolias. He sighs, slams the door of his locker, and rolls his eyes when it bounces off the frame and swings open once more. Whatever, all he has inside are his textbooks anyway. If some fucker wants them, they can have them.

He picks up the books by his feet and is just about to head to class when he spots Else down the hallway by her own locker, looking right at him. Her expression is unreadable and Luhan suddenly remembers the plethora of _Are you gay?_ and _How to tell if you are gay_ quizzes that he spent the whole afternoon on Sunday taking.

_you’re not gay, but you could be a little straighter._

He refuses to think about the fact that for most of the questions, his answers were false.

When he turns to leave, grip tight on the hard spines of his books, Else’s gaze burns a hole straight through the back of his head.

 

 

 

  
“Do you think he’s gay?”

“What?”

“The dance instructor. He seems super gay.”

The moment those words leave his mouth, Luhan wishes he could take them right back.

“What’s wrong with being super gay?”

His throat is sandpaper dry. “Nothing.”

Minseok’s just about to reply when a shadow falls over them. Luhan looks up to see Sehun standing there, lips full and pouty, his tongue just a sliver of pink between them.

“You left this,” Sehun says, tossing a snapback at him. “Thought you might want it back.”

Luhan stares, Sehun crooks an eyebrow, and no one speaks. Then Sehun’s lips curve up at the corners and he leaves with a nod of his head, leaving Luhan clutching at the snapback and losing his goddamn wits.

“Who was that?”

“We’re in the theatre club together.”

“Why does he have your snapback?”

“Must’ve left it at the meeting last week. He usually sits behind me.”

It’s damning, the way lies flow so easily out of his mouth.

 

 

 

  
Somehow, he finds himself with Else right next to him, the neckline of her blouse hanging dangerously low around the swells of her breasts. She leans close, glossed lips claiming a place by Luhan’s ear. He lets her talk, donning a well-worn mask that has her thinking he’s hanging onto her every word when in reality, all that’s on his mind is Sehun and Amie in the far corner of the room.

The apartment is packed to the brim – how the _hell_ did Vera manage to get such a huge turnout when their theatre group only has approximately twenty people? – and Luhan’s view is constantly getting blocked by passing heads. But he keeps his eyes fixed on that corner, ignoring the cheap neon lights pulsing in his periphery, and settles into a twisted, masochistic game of seeing how much he can stomach before he has to look away.

The couple is engrossed in each other, all wandering hands and kiss-bitten lips, and Luhan cannot fight the churn of jealousy deep in his gut. His skin crawls when Else rests a dainty hand on the inside of his forearm, coincidentally mirroring the way Amie holds onto Sehun. She’s marking her territory, Luhan can tell. The way her fingers curl into the thick locks of Sehun’s hair cannot be mistaken as anything else, nor can the way she angles his head to lick deep into his mouth.

Luhan’s mesmerized by the way Sehun’s jaw works when Sehun’s eyes suddenly fly open and lock with his. They’re dark and intent, pulling Luhan right under until he’s scrambling for air.

Else stops talking and Luhan acts on instinct, hauling her onto his lap and cutting off her squawk of surprise with his lips. When he dares to look back into the corner, Sehun is still looking at him, and Luhan _wants_. Just like that, with their mouths on their respective girls and their gazes trained on each other, they wile away the minutes.

 

 

 

  
It’s late and all Luhan wants to do is sleep, but he knows his flatmates will not be happy if they woke up to see the apartment floors covered with trash. So, with his limbs and eyelids equally heavy, he drags a trash bag around the empty apartment. It fills quickly, and by the time he’s crossing the threshold of the kitchen, he needs a new one.

But before he can get another, the one in his hands slips out of his grip at the sight of Sehun in his kitchen, standing over the sink with a bunch of soapy cups in hand. Bits of trash spill out of the open bag.

“What are you doing here?”

Sehun looks over his shoulder, unperturbed by Luhan’s sudden outburst.

“Thought I’d hang around and help with the clean-up. Don’t you have flatmates? Why are you doing this alone?”

“Yeah, but they’re not involved with the club, so I thought to ask them to help clean up would be – wait, I thought you left with your girlfriend.”

Ceramic clinks when Sehun sets a couple of mugs down on the drying rack.

“No, I came on my bike. Have to take it home. And didn’t I see a flatmate of yours right in the middle of the dance floor?”

“Baekhyun likes to have fun,” Luhan snorts. Bending, he stuffs the spilt trash back into the bag, knotting it up when he’s done and setting it aside. “He doesn’t like to clean up after the fun.”

They work in silence for a while, Luhan clearing the counters of trash while Sehun scrubs all the dishes clean. Luhan is busy wiping the surfaces down when he realises that the sound of running water is no more, and he turns to see Sehun leaning against the edge of the sink with a dish towel in his hands, quietly studying him.

“Um,” he says, and Sehun smiles.

“So,” Sehun begins. He sets the dish towel aside and takes a step closer. “How long have you been with Else?”

“I’m not with her,” Luhan replies, pulse speeding up with every step Sehun takes. “We hooked up once and she’s been trying to get more.”

“You don’t want more?”

The lump in his throat is in the goddamn way, but Luhan manages to swallow anyway. “No. Not with her.”

Sehun takes yet another step forward and Luhan backs up immediately, elbow knocking into the bottle of cleaning spray. It topples over with a low thud and Sehun reaches out to set it back upright.

“No?” Sehun echoes. The inside of his wrist brushes against the skin of Luhan’s arm. “With who, then?”

He’s so close now that Luhan has to physically tilt his head back to look up at Sehun. God, he can practically count each individual eyelash clinging to Sehun’s eyelids. The faint scent of laundry detergent and aftershave is delightful – Luhan breathes in long and deep.

“Someone,” he hears himself say. Sehun hums thoughtfully, both arms locked against the edge of the counter and keeping Luhan in place.

“Someone I know?”

He hears the words, but all Luhan registers is the loud pounding of his heart in his ears and the sight of Sehun’s lips so close to his own. They’re literally _right there_ , and if he just –

A loud bang echoes through the apartment and they spring apart moments before Baekhyun comes sauntering into the kitchen. Luhan wants to scream.

 

 

 

  
Texts from his mother are flooding in, one after another at a rapid pace, and they don’t seem to be slowing any time soon. His phone rattles insistently across the surface of the table and when he sighs, Saira’s hand shoots out to stop it from dropping off the edge.

“Do you maybe wanna answer _one_ of those texts?”

“It’s just my mother,” Luhan mutters, fiddling with his pen. “She’s…” He shrugs, helpless. “She has many thoughts.”

Saira frowns at him, perfect eyebrows dipping in an effort to meet in the middle. “Thoughts?”

The tip of Luhan’s pen presses so hard into the paper that it bleeds through a few sheets. He stares at the blooming spot of ink and gets the sudden urge to wipe his phone clean of all of her text messages.

“Thoughts,” he repeats, and turns a page.

Thankfully, Saira doesn’t push any further. They return to their project, and although Luhan ends up staring off into the distance rather than doing any actual work, Saira doesn’t complain.

During this lull in conversation, Luhan’s mind runs wild, jumping from one train to another so quickly it makes him dizzy. When it finally stops, he can’t help but open his mouth and utter the last thing he thought of. “Why do you believe in religion?”

Saira’s hand freezes, her pen in the middle of curling out the end of the letter _g_.

“Do you want to know my personal reasons or is this a general question?”

“Dunno,” Luhan sighs, frowning down at his notebook. His notes truly are a dreadful mess. “Both?”

“Religion is different for everyone.” Saira finishes writing her sentence and leans back in her seat, studying Luhan through thick lashes. “It gives me comfort, guidance, faith. A moral code. A community.”

“Don’t you think it’s unfair,” Luhan begins, “that gods are the ones that determine if something is right or wrong? If someone suffers from a disorder that has people think they’re fucked up? What gives them the right to make such a decision when they don’t even live to experience it?”

Saira exhales slowly, fingertip tapping steadily against the bow of her upper lip and interrupting the flow of air. “Are you talking about anything in particular?”

“Dunno,” Luhan repeats. “Things like mental illness, or like, homosexuality. Or something.”

Silence fills the space between and around them, and in a weak attempt to offset the tense awkwardness, Luhan starts writing down random words along the margins of his notebook.

“Can I just ask; if you don’t believe in a god, what do you believe in?”

“Science.” It’s an easy, automatic answer, because it’s the only one that makes sense. “It explains things, provides evidence, makes logical sense.”

At that, Saira can’t help but let out a noise of disbelief. “Science does not always make sense. Homosexuality is a genetic dead end, is it not? If they don’t reproduce, how can homosexuals pass on their genes?”

“I've seen a study that suggested women tend to have more children when they inherit the genetic factors linked to homosexuality in men. This compensates for the lack of offspring by gay men and also keeps the ‘gay gene’ in the gene pool.” Luhan lifts an eyebrow, defiant.

Saira huffs. “That's just one study. You know how iffy scientific studies can get. There are just some things we have no way of knowing, Luhan, regardless of the manner of reasoning behind it. I do not blindly follow everything my religion claims to be right and true. When it comes to my beliefs, I know I can decide for myself, and I do.”

Luhan doesn’t quite know what to say to that. His phone buzzes yet again, and he sets it to silent before turning back to his work. Across the table, Saira follows suit.

 

 

 

  
There’s a slip of paper stuck to the front of his locker, the bottom edge flapping lightly whenever someone walks by and displaces the air. Luhan keeps his eyes on it as he makes his way through the horde of students, getting an accidental elbow to the ribs when he trips over someone’s bag and nearly headbutts them.

When he finally makes it to his locker, Luhan tugs the paper free and stares down at it. It’s an ink drawing, a short comic of three frames. In the first frame, a figure is seated on a large rock overlooking the sea with something in his lap. It turns out to be a sketchbook, depicted in the second frame, with a rough sketch on its page. In the third frame, a second figure is seen out in the distance, the edge of the sketchbook visible in the corner of the frame.

At the bottom of the comic is the following sentence: _wanna skip last period tomorrow and come with me to the beach? - sehun_

Before his brain can even begin to process what he just read, he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see Else standing there, bright red lips practically glowing under fluorescent lights.

“Uh,” he says.

“So there’s this action movie that just came out,” she begins, either choosing to ignore Luhan’s clear disinterest or she’s just that oblivious, “and I was wondering if you’d want to take me out to see it.”

“I’m… I have plans,” Luhan says feebly.

Her eyes narrow, the flirty smile on her lips giving way to a scowl. “I didn’t even say when.”

“I’m busy today – we have the club meeting later, don’t we? –, I have plans tomorrow, and I’ll be busy on the weekend too.”

Well, he guesses he’ll be meeting up with Sehun tomorrow after all.

Else, unhappy, turns on her heel and stalks down the hallway. With each step she takes, the panic that’s wound tight around Luhan’s lungs eases. It doesn’t go away completely, not when she’s in the theatre club and he knows that he’ll have to see her after school, but it’s enough to slow the rapid firing of his heart.

Too preoccupied with his thoughts, Luhan visibly startles when the bell rings. He engages in yet another wrestling match with his locker in an attempt to get his books for the next two periods; he wins, eventually, but not without breaking a sweat. Sehun’s drawing crinkles slightly in his grip, so he slots it gently between two pages of his chemistry textbook and books it to class.

 

 

 

  
“So,” Luhan begins, shifting awkwardly on the smooth face of the rock. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Sehun digs around in his backpack and brandishes a sketchbook, hair looking like liquid burnished gold in the late afternoon sun. “It’s for an art project. I was hoping you’d model for me.”

“Sure, but why didn’t you ask Amie?”

A pause, in which Sehun stays silent, and Luhan waits for a few moments before he looks over his shoulder. Sehun’s head is tipped down, knuckles pale around his pencil, and there’s a crease between his brows that Luhan really wants to smooth out. A flip of the sketchbook, then: “She’s busy.”

Luhan isn’t the most perceptive of people, but even he knows that this is a line of conversation that he should not be pursuing. So he shuts up, turns back around to face the sea, and listens to the scratch of Sehun’s pencil as he starts drawing.

It’s nice out, warm enough to not warrant extra layers but cool enough to keep the sweat at bay. The waves lapping at the shoreline is a hypnotizing sight and it lulls Luhan into a calmness he has never experienced before. It lets minutes slip by, soft and easy, and a full hour passes in the blink of an eye.

“Wanna look? It’s just a rough sketch, but I’ll refine it later.”

Something in Luhan’s knee cracks when he stands, but he feels so at ease that the aches in his body don’t bother him in the least.

“What’s the concept anyway? Why did we have to come to the beach?”

“Open space,” Sehun answers, handing over the sketchbook when Luhan is within reach.

Sure enough, most of the paper is left blank. Only the bottom quarter of the sheet has been used – the jagged edges of the rocks, the shape of Luhan’s frame, a hint of the beach and ocean below. The lines are seemingly haphazard, but there’s a precision and crispness to them that sets it apart from other sketches Luhan’s seen over the years.

“I like it,” Luhan says, careful not to smudge the graphite. “Is it finished or will you be adding more to it?”

“Watercolours.” Sehun gestures to the view. “But only what’s necessary to capture all of this.”

The beach they’re at isn’t a tourist beach – the sand is too rough, there are too many rocks, and the surrounding cliff faces are tall enough that it doesn’t get enough sun to warrant sunbathing. Even the locals tend to stay away from this beach.

Luhan thinks there’s a beauty to it, however. Untouched, it holds secrets that only a handful of people are ever privy to.

“Anyway, thanks for sitting for me,” Sehun says, carefully sliding the sketchbook back into his bag. “Are you in a rush to head home?”

Luhan replies with a shake of his head. Pass up more time with Sehun just to have Baekhyun squish him into a corner of the couch and torture him with pictures of hot men? No thanks.

“Wanna walk along the beach?”

 

 

 

  
Grains of sand are rough beneath his feet and Sehun’s arm is warm against his.

Sehun’s picking up tiny shells every few steps, collecting them in the cup of his palm until it overflows, at which point he lets them fall through the gaps between his fingers before starting over.

“Hey, do you know what time you were born?”

“20:20,” Luhan answers. “I remember because I was born on the 20th.”

Sehun simply smiles.

They walk in silence, edging closer to the water until it starts lapping at their ankles, washing over the tops of their feet. Luhan unearths a blunt from his backpack and lights it up – they pass it between them, sucking casually on it until they reach a shallow pool, with water as clear as crystal.

Sehun tosses him a look, then tosses his belongings onto the sand, pulls his jeans up past his knees, and wades in. Luhan does the first thing that comes to mind: he follows.

The water is surprisingly cold, firing goosebumps down Luhan’s arms like a line of dominos the second he breaks the surface with his toes. He yelps, jumps, and tumbles right into Sehun.

“Shit,” Luhan wheezes, clutching onto wide shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t expect it to be so cold.”

There’s an arm around his waist holding him up and it stays there even when Luhan calms down.

“Can I ask you something?”

The arm tightens its grip and Luhan finds himself tugged closer to Sehun. He barely manages to nod.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s embarrassing, really, how quickly Luhan blurts out a, “Yes.”

It’s just as embarrassing how long it takes for the thought _you asshole, he has a girlfriend!_ to wriggle into his mind. But by the time it does, he’s already in the middle of getting his life kissed right out of him, lungs seizing with the need for air but lips unwilling to pull away.

A hand curls around his neck to hold him in place, something that Luhan is immensely grateful for, because he’s quite sure he would be a useless mess of limbs without Sehun’s literal support. He tries to give back as good as he’s getting, but it turns out that despite all the practice he’s had with girls, kissing Sehun is wholly different and _new_.

It doesn’t help that Sehun’s a fucking good kisser, either. In all honesty, it’s really quite unfair.

Sehun doesn’t dally, doesn’t start off slow. No, he goes straight for the kill, easily coaxing Luhan’s lips apart and licking in deep once granted access. It’s mind numbing and electrifying all at once and Luhan can’t help the weak sound that passes from his throat into Sehun’s.

For the sound, he’s rewarded with a chuckle, Sehun’s lips still flush against his, ripe with the taste of conquest.

“Stop laughing,” Luhan mumbles weakly, fingers tight around handfuls of Sehun’s shirt.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry, but Luhan can’t find it within himself to complain.

A few more chaste pecks and Sehun leans back, absently sweeping a few strands of his hair out of his eyes. “You know, I think I’d like to stay here, like this, with you forever.”

Luhan stares at Sehun’s kiss-bruised lips. “Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Me too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sehun doesn’t show up at school for three whole days. For that entire time, Luhan fiddles with his phone, wondering if they’re at a place where he can send Sehun concerned texts. Sure, they may have made out once or twice (or maybe a little more), but it’s only been a month since they’ve met.

And Sehun still has a girlfriend.

So Luhan ends up not texting him, settling for scanning the hallways and cafeteria for a sign of Sehun whenever he isn’t stuck in class. His pulse spikes whenever he’s metres away from his locker, only to drop when he doesn’t spot another sketch stuck to its door.

He’s lying in bed on Wednesday night, wide awake at a quarter to one, when his phone buzzes with a text. Luhan automatically assumes it’s his mother, so he almost drops his phone in shock when he sees Sehun’s name on the screen.

Opening it, he reads the following five words: _I told Amie about us._

When he tries to scroll for more, Luhan realises that that’s all Sehun sent.

He’s just about to reply with a _what do you mean? what did she say?_ when Facebook oh-so-helpfully reminds him that it’s Mattéo’s birthday.

“Shit.” Scrambling out of bed, he fumbles through the dark for his laptop and digs through the emergency folder of birthday and Christmas gifts he has set aside for moments like this. Every item offers same day shipping.

By the time he decides on a present and pays for it, sleep creeps up on him like a monster in the night. His phone lies silently beneath his pillow, Sehun’s text unanswered.

 

 

 

  
That text is the only time he hears from Sehun for the week. Sehun doesn’t even show up at theatre club.

Friday night shows him curled up on the couch, listening to Baekhyun and Luna (a.k.a. the flatmate that keeps the apartment together and relatively safe to live in) laughing in the kitchen as they whip up dinner. His phone lies by his head and Luhan’s gaze keeps flickering to the dark screen.

He should be out at the arcade with his friends celebrating Mattéo’s birthday, but he’d lied and said that his mother had requested his presence. Well aware of the condition of Luhan’s mother, none of his friends even thought to question his excuse. The guilt is there, hanging over him like a cloud, but he doesn’t have the mental energy to deal with it.

“What’s got you so glum?”

Luhan lifts his gaze to see Luna in the doorway, leaning against the frame with glass of orange juice in her hand. On second thought, perhaps it’s a mimosa.

“I’m not,” Luhan begins, then promptly gives up. He sinks deeper into the cushions.

The oven beeps and Luhan hears the door opening and closing. Moments after, Baekhyun appears next to Luna – _he’s_ definitely having a mimosa, if the bubbles in his glass are anything to go by.

“I recognise that look,” Baekhyun says, sipping daintily. “He’s pining.”

Something in his back cracks from how quickly Luhan scrambles to sit up. “ _Pine_ – I’m not pining!”

Luna walks over and leans down to swat Luhan’s legs off the couch. It dips slightly when she sits, toned legs crossing at the ankles.

“Honey,” she says, setting her glass down on the table. Baekhyun grins and squeezes in on Luhan’s other side. “Tell us what’s going on. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Luhan winces, teeth almost breaking the skin on his lip when he bites down.

When the seconds turn into minutes and Luhan still doesn’t answer, Luna comes to a conclusion.

“... Unless it’s not a girl?”

Something ice cold runs down Luhan’s spine.

“I –” His voice cracks, nails digging into the flesh of his thighs. That triggers another thick, heavy pause that Luhan wants to gag on.

“Hey.” It’s Baekhyun this time, voice surprisingly gentle and serious. “It’s okay, you know, if you… like men.”

As always, the denial is hot on the tip of his tongue. What comes out, however, surprises even Luhan himself. “I know it’s okay to be gay.”

“And yet you’re afraid of being viewed as gay,” Baekhyun points out. Luhan wonders when the hell his friend became so perceptive. “Why is that?”

“Dunno. The stereotypes. The obligation to participate in Pride and wear clothes that’s tight and splattered with the colours of the rainbow. Being sexually labelled because of my body type or how I dress.”

Luna rests a warm hand on the curve of Luhan’s knee and stays silent, aware that it’s not her place to speak or offer advice. It is, however, Baekhyun’s home ground.

“Don’t deny who you are because you’re scared of how people will view you. You owe it to what you see in the mirror to accept yourself. If you fit a stereotype or if you don’t; if you end up going to Pride or you don’t; you owe yourself that much.”

Baekhyun stands, drains his mimosa, and exhales. “It requires courage, you know. Coming out, I mean. There will always be those that look down on you, but there will also be those who will support you. Unconditionally.”

Then he leaves, disappearing into the kitchen with a swish of his silk robe.

 

 

 

  
Minseok appears at his door on Sunday evening. When Luhan glances at the clock, he notes that it’s right about when his mother would be leaving to go to church.

“We’re going to a party, and you’re coming with us.”

Luhan pulls a face but allows Minseok to drag him out of the apartment and down a few streets to a house party. They probably don’t even know the person hosting it, but getting inside is as easy as saying hi to a few strangers and exchanging pats on the back.

He’s been neglecting his friends for a while now, so Luhan fights past the wall of reluctance and accepts the Solo cup of alcohol that Minseok shoves into his hand. They find Mattéo attempting to chat up a girl – she looks bored out of her wits – and Marwan already halfway to being absolutely stoned.

“How much do you wanna bet Mattéo actually ends up getting some tonight?”

Luhan snorts into his drink. “I ain’t betting on something I’d lose.”

The alcohol helps, of course it does, and Luhan finds himself actually enjoying the loud mess that is a house party. He hangs with his best friend and wingmans for him, smiling politely whenever a girl or another attempts to flirt. The question is clearly bursting to come out of Minseok’s chest, but it’s not the time nor the place for it, so Luhan’s actions are blessedly left unquestioned.

That is, until he turns a corner and spots Sehun there, an arm casually flung across Amie’s shoulders as they chat with another couple.

Luhan turns on his heel and leaves the room, just missing the way Sehun’s eyes lock on his retreating back.

“I gotta go,” he says the moment he finds Minseok. His friend drops the conversation he’s in instantly, displeasure washing over his face at Luhan’s words.

“What? Why?”

Depositing his cup on a random surface, Luhan shakes his head and makes to leave, but Minseok stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, I don’t know what’s up with you, but you need to talk to me. I can tell that something’s up, you know. I’m your best friend, you’ve been freezing me out, and it’s fucking insulting, to be honest.”

This – Minseok’s anger – is new, and Luhan doesn’t like new, not when he has no clue on how to proceed. But Minseok figures it out for him, pushing him through the crowd until they make it past the front door and out onto the open street.

“Talk,” Minseok says the moment the chaos is far away enough for some quiet.

Panic sets in almost instantly, firing up his pulse and pulling cold sweat up onto the skin of his palms. He wants to lie, wants so badly to be able to come up with a good, solid lie, but he takes one look at Minseok’s face and – ”I’m gay,” he whispers.

The antagonism seeps out of Minseok as quickly as it appeared.

“Oh,” is all he says for a few moments. Then, “Thanks for trusting me with that, man.”

Luhan breathes, looks away, tries to stop the shaking in his limbs.

“Hey, you know I don’t care who or what you like, right? You’re my best friend.”

When he doesn’t respond, Minseok rolls his eyes and raps him on the crown of his head. Hard.

“Ow! Okay, okay, yeah, I know.” Minseok’s got a small smile on his face and Luhan can’t help but huff out a short laugh.

They start walking down the street, falling into step with each other easily.

“Why did you want to leave the party?”

“I, uh, saw someone there.”

“Who?”

Minseok already knows this much, Luhan thinks. Might as well tell him everything else.

“Sehun.”

 

 

 

  
Nighttime is different; it’s a time for secrets and for overthinking, and Luhan has done a lot of that across many sleepless nights. Tonight, it seems that Luna’s fallen victim to it, too.

Hand tucked underneath his pillow, Luhan curls up on his bed and listens to his friend through the thin walls of his bedroom. It’s almost two in the morning, but she’s speaking into the phone with such fervor – and volume – that it could very well be two in the afternoon.

It’s not hard to figure out what she’s upset about: her boyfriend and the lack of effort he’s putting into their relationship, one that’s already under the strain of long-distance. Luhan guesses that it’s Elin on the phone, one of their mutual friends from school and Luna’s confidante.

“... and nobody lives happily ever after, because in the end, no one's fucking willing to sacrifice anything for someone they claim to love.”

The skin on the back of Luhan’s neck crawls.

He kicks the covers off and rolls out of bed, nearly tripping over a pair of jeans on the floor in his haste to get to the door. Luna walks by right when he steps out of his room and they nearly collide into each other, her yelp lodging in her throat when Luhan catches her by the arm.

“Sorry,” he says, and she shakes it off.

“No, it’s okay. Did I wake you?”

Luhan shrugs. “No, I wasn’t asleep.”

He can hear Elin’s voice through the phone, faint and a little staticky, but she’s there.

“Oh. So… you heard?”

“Bits and pieces.” Luhan inches past her and heads into the kitchen for a glass of water. She follows after him, a little hesitant, phone clutched between both hands.

“I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Luhan tells her, watching as the glass fills with water. “It’s your personal business. I will say this, though.” He takes a gulp of water and swipes at a stray drop that slips free. “He’s an idiot if he gives up on you and what you guys have. You’re a great person, Luna. Don’t settle for something less than what you deserve.”

He leaves with a kiss to her cheek.

For the rest of the time he lies awake, Luhan doesn’t hear another word from Luna.

 

 

 

  
“Get the pepperoni,” Minseok groans, “it’s so much better than the cheese.”

“You want me to get the pepperoni just so you can have some,” Luhan says. He fixes his friend with a look and grabs a slice of cheese pizza instead.

With a grand roll of his eyes, Minseok grumbles something about _friends that don’t make sacrifices_ and Luhan sniggers all the way to the cashier’s line. Luhan ends up paying for Minseok’s lunch as well – because Minseok has a very sneaky talent of getting his way – and they’ve only taken a few steps away from the counter when Sehun suddenly materialises in front of them.

“Hey,” Sehun says, cautious.

Luhan stares at him – no apparent broken bones and no injuries of any sort, apart from the shadows beneath his eyes. No visible explanation for his absence, Luhan concludes bitterly.

“So where have you been?”

A loud cough sounds from behind him and Minseok mumbles something about going back to their table. Luhan lets him go, eyes never straying from Sehun’s face.

“I had to take some time off school,” Sehun answers once Minseok’s out of hearing range. They’re standing in the middle of the cafeteria and students are swarming around them, bags and elbows threatening to jostle Luhan’s lunch right off its tray.

That vague, half-assed answer is nowhere close to what Luhan wants to hear and his fight or flight instinct slams right up to the surface. This time, he picks fight.

“To fix your relationship, I assume? That text you sent me – were you drunk?”

Sehun’s brows draw together and he sighs, fingers slipping into the front pockets of his jeans. “I wasn’t. I did tell her about us.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that she’s okay with her boyfriend hooking up with another _guy_.”

“She’s not. That’s why I’ve been absent. Luhan –” God, he wasn’t prepared to hear his name on Sehun’s lips.

“Well, seems like you guys fixed things during that time, then. She must be happy. Excuse me, I have to go.”

He shoves his way past Sehun, not caring when he feels the point of his elbow collide with the other’s ribs. In the end, Minseok ends up eating half of his pizza anyway.

 

 

 

  
When he gets to his locker, ready for another battle with the blasted thing, Luhan gets the shock of his life. For the first time in what feels like forever, the door swings open for him, effortless, like someone had poured melted butter into every crevice of the lock.

A slip of paper flutters out and Luhan instantly knows what it is before he bends to pick it up.

He unfolds it to see another comic, just two panels this time. The first panel depicts comic!Luhan sitting with his friends at lunch with comic!Sehun in the background, and the second panel has them sitting outside on the bench they once shared a blunt at.

_can we talk after school, please? i’ll wait for you at the bench._

Luhan wonders what Sehun would do if he doesn’t show. Text him? Call him? Search for him?

He folds the drawing back up and slots it into a notebook for safekeeping. When he closes his locker door, it goes without a fight.

 

 

 

  
Luhan rests his weight on the wide ledge of the window, looking down through the pane at Sehun’s back. Broad shoulders, almost stretching at the seams of his jacket, hunched over as he waits. It’s been twenty minutes since school has let out, twenty minutes since Luhan got to the window and spotted Sehun sitting at that bench. How long has he been out there?

When twenty minutes becomes twenty-five, Luhan slides off his perch and makes his way outside.

Sehun’s head snaps up when he approaches and Luhan sees the anxiousness melt off his face. The sight grips at his heart, hard enough to bruise. He takes a seat, trapping his hands between his thighs in an attempt to prevent any sudden urges to reach out and touch Sehun.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I think you’re mistaken,” Sehun says, straight to the point. “You saw me with Amie that night at the party, didn’t you?”

Luhan’s silence is just as good as a verbal answer.

“We didn’t go there together, I just bumped into her there. We didn’t go there as a couple and we didn’t leave as one. Her and I – our relationship is complicated. We’ve been friends for years and have dated for almost that entire time. We might not be together anymore, but she’s still my friend and we still care about each other. I told her about us, Luhan, I really did.”

For a long time, neither one speaks. Luhan watches cars and buses go by, a couple of students heading in and out of the school’s front doors, a stray cat that ducks into the bushes with an irritated meow.

“That… doesn’t explain where you’ve been.”

From his periphery, Luhan sees Sehun’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his own arms, a reflexive twitch in response to his questions.

“I was home,” comes the careful answer.

“For the entire week?”

Sehun takes a deep breath. “Yes. I needed the time.” A pause, where Luhan stares at the tightness in Sehun’s throat. “I’m bipolar, Luhan. Do you, uh, know what that is?”

Never in a million years did Luhan see this coming and it isn’t until Sehun starts fidgeting that he realises he has yet to reply. “Y-yeah, sorry. Mattéo’s mother is bipolar as well.”

At that exact moment, his mind jumps to his mother. His mother, schizophrenic and often in the throes of wild delusion, her mental state arguably the sole reason for the abrupt departure of his father, the withdrawal of his sister, and the overall disintegration of his family. Schizophrenia is nothing like bipolar disorder, but the thought of yet another potentially important relationship in his life being ruined by a demon he cannot see nor fight is something he’s unable to stomach.

His blood runs cold and he stands.

“Luhan? What –”

“I’m sorry. I can’t –” He swallows, hating the terror hot in his throat. He doesn’t – he _can’t_ – look at Sehun. “I can’t do this.”

He runs.

 

 

 

  
The next few days of school turn out to be the biggest challenge Luhan has ever faced in his lifetime. He times _everything_ – arriving at school mere minutes before the bell rings so Sehun can’t corner him against his locker, buying his lunch as late as possible to avoid the vulnerability of being stuck in lines, and for the first time ever, he skips theatre club.

Minseok doesn’t push for answers, and he must have said something to the other two, because neither do they. From the looks they exchange between themselves and the ones they not-so-sneakily toss at Luhan, Luhan can tell that his friends are itching to know what the hell is going on. Maybe he should tell them.

“Drinks? Tomorrow at mine? Baekhyun and Luna will be out for the night and I think Luna’s got a couple bottles of cheap wine that she won’t mind letting me have.”

He says it so casually that it takes his friends a few long seconds to really register the words.

“Wait –”

“What, really?”

“You want us to –?”

Luhan throws a soggy fry at Marwan’s head and says, “Yes, these couple of weeks have been shitty and I want to spend some time with my friends to try and feel better. That okay with you guys?”

Over the enthusiastic noise of their assent, Luhan glances across the cafeteria and sees Sehun looking right back at him. Bright sunlight and shadows play off the planes off his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw and the hollowness under his eyes.

Suddenly short of breath, Luhan tears his gaze away.

 

 

 

  
Marwan and Mattéo accept Luhan’s mumbled _I’m gay_ so easily that Luhan’s half-convinced that they think they heard something else. Similarly, they take in the rest of what Luhan has to say like it’s as simple as breathing, nodding at the right moments and prompting him with questions when he gets stuck.

It isn’t until Marwan says, “So, now that I know you’re gay, I gotta ask you this: which Chris do you think is the hottest? I have this cousin who insists Pratt is the hottest and I really don’t agree with her,” does he start to wrap his mind around the fact that his friends are truly okay with it.

While Marwan and Mattéo start bickering over the hottest Chris – Marwan nearly pops a vein when Mattéo mentions Pine – , Minseok nudges him with his knee. When Luhan turns to him, Minseok simply smiles, and Luhan is so overcome by affection and gratitude for his friends that tears start to prick at his eyes.

Horrified at himself, he downs his glass of wine, coughs at the burn, and catches Mattéo’s attention – nothing like some sobering conversation to keep the tears at bay.

“Sehun is bipolar.”

Mattéo blinks at him once, twice, then nods animatedly.

“Alright, I see. Did you want some advice on how to handle it?”

Luhan pinches the stem of the wine glass, flesh around his nails bulging with the pressure. “Maybe? I don’t know, really.”

“Well, you’ve met my mother.” Luhan nods, thinking about the sweet woman he met a year or so ago. Mattéo clearly got the soft colour of his hair from her. “What do you think of her?”

“She seems… completely fine.”

Hands spread, Mattéo lifts a shoulder and says, “There you go. I know everything that’s happened with your mother is scary, and I can’t say I understand, but this is different. My mother is just like any other person you see on the street, except for the fact that she gets periods of depression and mania. Watching those episodes unfold for the first few times can be frightening, but you gotta fight past that and learn how to be there for them.”

Luhan stares at a scratch on the table’s surface, put there by Baekhyun, hungover and wielding a fruit knife on a Saturday afternoon just after the New Year.

“I think he just had a depressive episode,” he mumbles. “I think I might’ve –”

He stops, unable to speak past the lump of guilt in his throat.

“If you care for him,” Mattéo says, pouring more wine into his glass, “you need to be there for him. I’m not saying try and fix him, because there’s nothing wrong with him and none of this is his fault. Be understanding. Be _there_ , man. It helps, trust me.”

“Look,” Marwan interjects, “he broke up with his girlfriend – of how many years, again? – for you. You, someone he’s known for a handful of months. It’s an asshole move to run from this just because he has a disorder that he didn’t even ask for.”

Luhan winces, the brutal truth of that statement searing hot into his skin like a brand.

“I’m –”

“We’re your friends and we’re not here to judge you. But what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t point out where you fucked up?”

It’s at that exact moment that his phone lights up with a text.

Luhan blinks at the device, sitting innocently on the table next to a crumpled bag of Doritos.

“It’s Sehun,” Minseok says helpfully when Luhan makes no move to open it. “Want me to read it for you?”

Everyone jumps in their seats when Luhan’s hand shoots out to slap over the phone. “No! No. Uh, thanks, but I got it.”

_i’m sorry. i know you didn’t ask for any of this. don’t know if this is too much to ask for, but could i see you?_

“He wants to see me.”

“Dude, say yes.”

_okay_ , he types with jerky thumbs. _when?_

_now? if that’s ok. i’m out on the street in front of your building._

Scrambling to his feet, Luhan darts to the nearest window overlooking the street and looks out into the darkness. Sure enough, there by one of the streetlamps, is Sehun’s unmistakable silhouette.

“Oh my god.”

“What, is he down there?”

“Yeah, fuck.” As he speaks, Luhan watches Sehun lift his phone up, presumably to check if Luhan had replied.

He hears a smack, the sound of someone’s palm colliding with another’s bare skin.

“Get up, we’re leaving. They need some time together.”

“Wait –”

“Don’t be a wuss, man. You like him, he likes you – this is just an obstacle you have to conquer, you know?”

Stunned, Luhan looks on as his friends gather their things and disappear through the front door. Mattéo’s got one foot past the threshold when he turns and says, “Remember. Just be there for him.”

 

 

 

  
In the sudden silence of the apartment, Luhan leans against the wall, sweaty palms slipping on the sides of his phone.

_okay_ , he types again. _you can come up. i’m on the third floor, unit 9._

He twists his head to look out the window, just in time to catch Sehun straightening to his full height, striding out of the flood of light and into the lobby. He counts the seconds, along to the steady _tickticktick_ of the kitchen clock behind him.

A hundred and eight-six seconds. That’s how long it takes for Sehun to get up here, probably stuck in the lobby for most of those seconds waiting for the shitty elevator that moves at an honest-to-god snail’s pace.

The knock pulls him out of his reverie and Luhan hurries over to the door, pulling it open to see Sehun there, a beanie snug over his ears and his cheeks tinged red with the night’s chill. His lips are chapped and those shadows under his eyes only seem to be getting darker.

“Hi,” Sehun says, soft.

“Hi,” Luhan says, aching.

For a while, they simply look at each other, sharing air, sharing space.

“I’m,” Sehun begins, then promptly shuts up with Luhan lets out a pained noise and pulls him in by the wrist.

“No, stop. _I’m_ sorry.”

He’s not entirely sure who moved first, but the next thing he knows, he’s got Sehun’s lips on his and Sehun’s fingers curling around his hips. Clarity hits and pulls, like a hook sinking deep into his gut and _yanking_. He needs to try, need to give them a chance instead of taking two steps backwards before they’ve even had the opportunity to take half a step forward.

Soothing the dryness of Sehun’s lips with his tongue, Luhan kicks the door shut behind him and lets himself get shoved up against it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, hands roaming everywhere, desperate to commit the feel of the other into his memory. He traces the gentle curve of Sehun’s neck down to the sharp ridge of his clavicle, a hand curling around his nape to feel the brush of soft hair against his fingertips. “I’m sorry. I got scared. My mother, she –”

“It’s okay,” Sehun cuts in. His breath fans warm over the curve of Luhan’s lips. “I understand. If you don’t want me in your life, if you think that it could get too hard to handle, just tell me. I can leave. I don’t want to, but I will.”

“I think it will be hard,” Luhan says, staring at the hollow of Sehun’s throat as the latter steps even further into his personal space. “I don’t know how to be there for you in the way you need me to be. I don’t know how to tell myself that you’ll be okay if and when you get into one of your episodes.”

“I understand.” A shift, then it’s almost as if Sehun’s pulling away and putting distance between them. Luhan reaches out with both hands and fists the fabric of Sehun’s jacket, keeping him in place. A muted thud echoes in his ears when the flat of Sehun’s hands come back into contact with the door.

“No, you don’t, because I’m not finished. I don’t know, but I will work on it. I’ll learn. I’ll learn how to spot an oncoming episode, I’ll learn how to keep you safe to the best of my abilities – fuck, I’ll figure what you like to eat when you’re depressed and make that until you feel better.”

Sehun smiles, the corners of his mouth creeping up until his eyes are crinkling adorably.

“I like minestrone, but like, thicker than your typical minestrone. I also like a thick grilled cheese.”

Luhan gapes at him and Sehun’s smile only grows wider.

“Okay,” Luhan croaks. “I’ll learn how to make – _mmph_!”

Sehun kisses him hard and deep, a hand wrapping around his jaw to keep him in place and angle him just right. Heat rushes up Luhan’s body lightning fast, starting from the tips of his toes to the tips of his ears. He’s been with many, many girls, and none of them could have hoped to coax just a quick response out of him.

“Could we –”

“ _Yes_ ,” Luhan breathes, and manhandles Sehun into the direction of his bedroom.

 

 

 

  
Those clever, clever fingers leave electricity humming in streaks down Luhan’s skin, running from his sternum down to his navel and in starbursts everywhere else. A shivery coldness follows suit and Luhan arches up into Sehun’s sure touch and the wetness of his tongue.

Ultimately, it’s the surety of his hips that has Luhan coming, Sehun’s name lodged in his throat and sparking at the tips of his fingers.

 

 

 

  
For the next few weeks, things go _beautifully_.

Luhan gets a comic stuck to his locker door every morning and he carries it in his pocket for the rest of the day. Once he gets home, the new comic gets pinned up onto a crooked corkboard he has above his desk.

His friends love Sehun. Mattéo fawns over him so much – in fact, Minseok ends up having to tell him that he will never get to sleep with a girl until he stops visibly mooning over his friend’s boyfriend.

They go on bike rides during the weekends, finding pretty areas around the city for Luhan to sit and pose for Sehun to sketch. On such weekends, Sehun sometimes drops by the apartment to cook with Luna and Baekhyun.

“He’s great,” Baekhyun tells Luhan one day after dinner. They’re at the table, watching as Sehun and Luna work on the dishes. There’s a trashy, yet painfully catchy, pop song on the radio and the two of them are dancing as they’re scrubbing, Luna’s laughter bright and lovely to complement Sehun’s grin. “Treats you like you’re the light of his life.”

“Yeah. He does.”

Baekhyun turns to look at him, as sharp as ever.

“You don’t sound happy about that.”

“No, I am. He’s amazing, you’re right. But I just can’t help thinking about when it would all go wrong, you know? What it would be like when I can’t keep up with his thoughts. If everything is going so well now, it makes sense that it would be really bad when it got bad, right?”

Baekhyun sighs, and somehow, he manages to make the sound dramatic.

“You can’t think of it like that. A relationship is composed of both the good and the bad. You have to face both together and with the same attitude. Enjoy the good and stay strong through the bad. You’ll only come out of it stronger.”

Luhan’s saved from replying when Sehun comes over and extends a wet hand.

“Dance with us,” he says, eyes bright and smile sweet. Behind him, Luna twirls and lets out a hoot.

How could he not take Sehun’s hand and rise to his feet?

 

 

 

  
He tries to keep Baekhyun’s words in mind, but when things got bad…

For their 50th day anniversary, Sehun had brought Luhan to a fancy hotel for the night, where they spent hours eating, watching TV, smoking weed, and making love. The entire day went wonderfully, starting with yet another comic stuck to Luhan’s locker, accompanied for the first time by a single red rose.

That was followed by a home-cooked lunch, brought to school in a bunch of multi-coloured Tupperware containers that Sehun pulled out of his backpack like a practiced magic trick.

They biked all the way to the hotel after school, taking the scenic route and trading kisses whenever they felt like stopping and doing just that. Sehun was extremely enthusiastic throughout the night, slathering Luhan with affection of all types.

Luhan falls asleep to the soft hum of the television and the warmth of Sehun’s body.

He wakes to the soft hum of the television and a cold bed.

“Sehun?” Groggy, he peers at the bedside clock and sees that it’s barely 3 in the morning. Light form television casts everything in a frosty, eerie glow, and goosebumps rise all down Luhan’s arms. “Sehun!”

There’s no answer.

Scrambling out of bed, Luhan tugs on his pants and shirt, forgoing underwear and socks in his hurry. A check of the bathroom and the closet – it’s big enough to hide in – leads to no sign of Sehun, and when he heads into the hallway, he sees a wide open door.

“ _Shit_.”

Luhan darts back inside the room for his phone and sprints out the door.

 

 

 

  
After an hour of running aimlessly through the streets, Luhan is close to panicked tears. Sehun had left without his phone, jacket, or shoes, and Luhan is petrified for his safety.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Out of desperation, he calls Amie.

 

 

 

  
Amie finds him roaming the streets, climbing out of her cab to let him know that the police have found Sehun and are in the middle of bringing him home. Luhan is about to thank her when:

“How can you possibly commit to a relationship with him if you have no idea how to take care of him? He’s bipolar, Luhan, not someone with a cold.” She sneers at him, eyes as cold as the weather is becoming.

“Tell me; do you really think he loves you? You can tell just as well as I can that he’s not well – Sehun gets fixated on things for a while, like a hobby, until he gets better and moves on. You’re a hobby, Luhan. He doesn’t love you, he just thinks he does. Why do you think I let him go so easily? _He’s done this before._ And every time, he comes back to me.”

She departs just as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Luhan a trembling, crying mess on the sidewalk.

 

 

 

  
Amidst all this chaos, Luhan doesn’t really know what led him to pick up the phone and send his mother the following message: _Mom, I’m so sorry, but I’m gay. I like men, mom. I know that you believe in God and that the Bible says homosexuality is a sin, but it also says that God created everyone in his image and we’re all equally worthy. I’m sorry if I made you sad. I love you._

 

 

 

  
Luhan retreats deep, deep into himself. He goes to school, eats with his boys, and goes straight home when the bell rings. Sehun is nowhere to be seen within the school’s walls.

The boys are worried, but Luhan tells them that he needs some time. Although reluctant, they agree and no one brings up the topic of Sehun.

He tells Saira to let Vera know that he’s leaving the club.

“Why?”

“It’s actually not the club,” Luhan says, not looking at her. “It’s who it reminds me of. Just – please, tell her I won’t be attending any more meetings and that I’m sorry. She’s running a great club and I’ve really enjoyed my time there.”

He can feel her scrutinizing gaze on the side of his face, but he jots down a note or two on organic chemistry and pointedly pretends he doesn’t notice.

 

 

 

  
It’s the 20th of the month, past dinnertime, and Luhan’s out walking through the streets. He’s got a styrofoam cup of lukewarm hot chocolate in his hand, almost untouched, but he holds on to it because it’s enough – for the moment – to keep his fingers warm.

The sky is a deep purple, speckled with a warm glow, and Luhan momentarily thinks about how Sehun would be the only person able to put this image down on paper with a brush.

At some point, he tosses the drink away and shoves his hand into his pocket. Two, three seconds go by and his phone vibrates.

_Luhan, my starlight. I’m looking at the time and it’s almost 20:20. It’s the 20th. I’m sitting right where we were when we first met, and although it’s cold outside, I’m warm just by thinking about you. There are so many things I want to say, but I guess the biggest one would be that I’m sorry. For putting you in this position. I know that you said you were ready, but I’m too much of a burden even for the biggest hero to bear. I should have warned you, but I was so afraid of losing you. Turns out, I have managed to do just that anyway. At the very least, I take comfort in that fact that in another universe, we are together for all eternity. I love you, Sehun._

Towards the end of the message, the words start blurring together, tears pooling in Luhan’s eyes until they spill out and dot the screen with droplets.

He’s far from school, but Luhan doesn’t give the distance any thought before he turns on his heel and runs.

He runs until his muscles scream and his lungs burn, but Luhan feels anything but exhausted when he sets eyes on Sehun, sitting right there on the bench with a lit blunt between his fingers.

Sehun doesn’t seem to hear him approaching.

“You shouldn’t be smoking that,” Luhan says quietly, reaching out to pluck the blunt away once he’s close enough. Sehun jerks, head snapping up and eyes widening at the sight of him. “I did a bit of research and nothing’s terribly conclusive, but you should probably stay away from it just to be safe.”

Sehun blinks at him, eyes wet, and Luhan drops the blunt on the concrete ground. He kneels down between Sehun’s knees, trembling hands going up up up until he can cup Sehun’s face and pull him down to press their foreheads together.

“You didn’t lose me. I’m here.” He closes his eyes and Sehun sucks in a shaking breath. “You’ll never lose me, okay? I will _always_ be here.”

He leans in, just an inch, and their lips brush.

 

 

 

  
Sehun is snoozing in his bed and Luhan can’t help the surge of warmth that arises when he sees Sehun buried in a pile of his own sheets. He’s been asleep for almost 12 hours now, but Mattéo says that it’s not abnormal if he’s in a depressive episode. So Luhan stays by his side and lets him sleep, leaving only to go to the bathroom or get a drink.

He’s in the kitchen slapping together a messy sandwich when someone knocks on the door.

Baekhyun and Luna are both out, so he half-tiptoes and half-skids to the door on socked feet, nearly stubbing his toe against the leg of a chair in the process.

It’s Amie at the door, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

“Hi?”

“Hello,” she says, fiddling with her scarf. “I, uh, couldn’t contact Sehun, so I was wondering if he’s here? You weren’t answering your phone, so I thought I’d drop by.”

Luhan blinks. “Oh shit, sorry, I think I left it on vibrate somewhere in the apartment. Yeah, he’s here, but he’s asleep.” Luhan points to the closed door of his room. “Do you want to talk to him? I’ll get him to call you back if –”

“No no, I just wanted to make sure he’s safe. I’m here to speak to you, actually. I wanted to apologise.”

A piece of lettuce falls out of his sandwich and they watch it float to the ground.

“Apologise? Why?”

“What I said to you was rude and uncalled for, and not exactly the truth. I lied when I said he’s done it before. He has never done it before, never left me for someone else. But I told myself that it was just another one of his delusions, because that was something I was able to accept. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

Luhan nods dumbly. “Uh, yeah, it’s okay. I understand. Thanks.”

She smiles at him, and although it’s awkward as hell, it’s genuine enough for Luhan to return it.

Just as she’s turning to leave, Luhan stops her.

“Do you have any advice?”

This time, her smile is bittersweet. “No, not really. You just have to… take it day by day, really. If that’s too hard, too daunting, then take it hour by hour. If an hour is too much, then take it minute by minute. Just as long as you’re there for him.”

Luhan nods, and Amie continues on her way.

When he finishes his sandwich and returns to bed, he finds Sehun awake.

He climbs into bed, pressing in close to Sehun’s side and failing to fight back the smile when Sehun burrows into his warmth. The guy’s bloody tall and cuddling someone who’s over six foot is tough, but Luhan does his best and is rewarded with a content sigh.

“Let’s just,” Luhan begins, brushing his lips across Sehun’s temple, “take it minute by minute.”

“Okay,” Sehun breathes. “Minute by minute.”

 

 

 

  
Vera welcomes them back into the theatre club as if they’ve never left.

They’re studying _Forrest Gump_ this week, and Sehun’s neck-deep in a whispered discussion with the guy sitting to his right. Luhan’s torn between trying to listen to the discussion or simply watching Sehun talk – his face really does light up when he’s talking about films and it’s so _endearing_.

“You’re right, you know.”

Luhan turns to Saira, confused. “About?”

“Homosexuality being able to be explained by science. I did some research. I found a few interesting articles. I can link them to you if you’d like.”

Luhan chuckles. “Yeah? Sure, I’d love to read them.”

She nudges him in the arm. “You’ve been looking happier recently. I’m glad.”

“Thanks,” Luhan says, perhaps just a little touched.

Warmth brushes along the back of his hand and Luhan glances over to see Sehun’s fingers slipping into the gaps between his. Sehun squeezes once and Luhan squeezes right back, happy to let his boyfriend continue with his discussion as he turns his attention back to the screen. 


End file.
